


Hit Me With Your Sweet Love

by happilyeveramber



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtship, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, IN A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND SANE AND IN LOVE, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Secret Admirer, Sterek Secret Santa, idk set after S3A, like TOOTH ROTTING fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyeveramber/pseuds/happilyeveramber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The point was he has absolutely no clue who (or what) is leaving him baked goods. Every day, when he gets home from school, there is a plate of something inevitably delicious on his desk. Which would be awesome. Except with all the supernaturals swarming the place, you get kind of wary about what you eat. Especially if you don’t know who made it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me With Your Sweet Love

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for [The Sterek Secret Santa Gift Exchange](http://stereksecretsanta.tumblr.com/) i was the secret santa for the lovely [waterchuck](http://waterchuck.tumblr.com/), my new bestie. She just wanted something where one of them was good with food and courted the other with it, and somehow this shitstorm was born. sorry i'm posting it so late, things have been craaazy.  
> trigger warning for the teeniest mention of selfharm (in the form of claws sliding into someone's own skin)

Stiles is confused.

Okay, that was a bit of an understatement. He is befuddled, addled, perplexed, puzzled, _mystified_. Which wasn’t really an unusual feeling. When you’re running around with werewolves who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing and you have to trust shady forums for all your information, well, you tend to get a little confused sometimes. And frustrated. But that was beyond the point.

The point was he has absolutely no clue who (or what) is leaving him baked goods. Every day, when he gets home from school, there is a plate of something inevitably delicious on his desk. Which would be awesome. Except with all the supernaturals swarming the place, you get kind of wary about what you eat. Especially if you don’t know who made it.

The first time had gone something like this: he had gotten home and thrown his books on the floor, dramatically collapsing onto his bed. There may have been a theatrically heavy sigh or two. Then, his very skilled nose caught the scent of brownies. And there were a plate of them, sitting right there in plain sight on his desk, practically sparkling and calling out to him.

Of course, he devoured them instantly.

It wasn’t until later that night when he thanked his dad for the fabulous dessert and his father gave him a weird look that he realized. He ran upstairs to his room, only to find the plate gone. He didn’t what to do. Throw up? He had eaten the food hours ago and he didn’t even have proof it was somehow dangerous. He may just be overreacting.

The next day, it was snickerdoodles. Whoever was leaving them really knew Stiles’ stomach.

He brings it up the next day at the pack meeting. Not to everyone, of course, Derek has gotten really into these things and if you dare interrupt him, you shall face his wrath. Which is mostly glaring and snarky tones, but still.

He asks Scott first, because duh. Scott was his buddy. There were plenty of reasons why Scott might leave him desserts. An apology for ditching him for Allison, an apology for ditching him for Isaac, and apology for knocking over that vase during MarioKart last week. Basically, a lot of things needed apologizing for.

“Hey, Scott, buddy ole pal,” Stiles grins as he sidled up to Scott, who smiles at him in return. “This might sound a little weird, but have you been practicing your baking skills lately?”

Scott wrinkles his nose. “Why? Are you giving me advice? Are you telling me I’m a bad baker? Because that’s really unsubtle and rude, Stiles.” Stiles rolls his eyes and walks away.

Definitely not him.

“Is this your way of asking me to be involved in some weird Little Red Riding Hood role-play with you?” Isaac says with a curled upper lip when Stiles asks him. “Because, I’m sorry, man, but I don’t want any of your ‘goodies.’” Allison and Lydia don’t even answer him; they just both raise an eyebrow simultaneously. They are getting more and more terrifying. Cora must have heard him ask the others because when he just walks over to her, she goes, “never,” and walks away. Damn Hales.

He doesn’t even bother asking Derek because no. Just no. Him and Derek have miraculously been getting closer ever since he and Cora came back, but not that close. Right? I mean, sometimes they hang out. In a platonic bros sort of way. They rent movies, they eat candy (Derek is surprisingly an absolute sugar _fiend_. His favorites are SourPatch Kids, which will never get old) and sometimes they talk. Nothing weird. But theyre not exactly at the exchanging baked goods stage in their relationship. And, although it was easy to ask the others, the idea of looking like a total fool in front of Derek is kind of humiliating and terrifying to think of.

So, he makes a note to bring it up next time. And he will. Totally.

 

::

 

He doesn’t.

But it isn’t his fault. Really. The next time he’s lying around bored with an Xbox and some Cheezits and decides to take the party to Derek’s, he fully intends on telling him. He just forgot the check the date.

When he gets to Derek’s loft and it’s total quiet, no lights on, no brother-sister banter, no creepy uncle Peter, he’s already suspicious. “Derek?” He calls out, still munching on the peanut butter cookie he made so he wouldn’t be tempted to eat the delightful smelling treat of the day.

“Hey, come out come out wherever you are. I brought you a cookie.” He wanders towards Derek’s room, where the door is open. He sees Derek sitting on the floor and breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought you and Cora had flown the coop again with no warning. Do you wanna- _woah_.” He stops mid-sentence as Derek lets out this wrecked whining sound and turns around. He’s almost completely transformed, but his lip and fingertips are bloody and Stiles can see why. He’s sliding his fangs and claws out and then retracting them, over and over again.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing? That does _not_ look healthy.” Derek continues making those whimpering noises and Stiles doesn’t know what to _do_. “Hey, um, just calm down. Where’s Cora?” He sincerely doesn’t think that Derek can talk in this condition, but he’s hoping he can communicate somehow.

“Running,” Derek forces out. “Not… a good day.” And Stiles wants to laugh because _yeah_. “Anniversary. Fire.” And, _oh_ , all of a sudden Stiles gets it. God. Okay.

“Um, alright, okay, just.” He bodily moves Derek into his arms and cradles his head, trying not to think about how close this is to slipping into a clear non-platonic territory. He’s just a friend helping out a friend. Scott would do this for him and there is definitely no spark there. Just like there is nothing here.

Derek sniffles and Stiles exhales heavily, threading his fingers into Derek’s hair and whispering that he’s going to be okay.

Yep. Definitely nothing.

 

::

 

The have another planned meeting- Stiles refuses to think of it as a date- this Saturday and he will _definitely_ ask if Derek knows what’s up then. It’s been a little stiff between them since that night and maybe if they get to go hunt some Big Baking Bad Guy together, it’ll dispel the awkwardness.

And, Jesus Christ, that is not a thought that should ever run through any sane person’s head.

But it’s all good. Stiles rented Inception and Derek got sour gummy worms and they were sitting on the couch and it’s all going great. They’ve apparently decided they aren’t going to talk about what happened. Whatever, okay, Stiles is very good at ignoring his problems. But, he should probably bring up the food problem, because he is going to crack someday and that day will be soon. The food smells better and better with each passing day.

“So, hey,” Stiles hedges, a gummy worm hanging out of his mouth. Derek turns to him and, upon seeing the candy, rolls his eyes. “Would you by any chance be interested in some baked goods?”

Derek stiffens and looks down at his jeans. “Why?”

“Because _somebody_ has been leaving them in my room,” Stiles shrugs and grins at Derek. “I thought maybe you could be my werewolf taste tester. Or poison tester.”

Derek rolls his eyes again, elbowing Stiles. “They’re not poison, shut up.”

“I don’t know, they might be. Who know what kind of big bad is leaving them there? It could be a weapon of mass destruction or some kind  of marriage proposal. I really don’t want to marry any fairies again.” They both shudder.

“Trust me, youre not accepting any proposals just by eating them. Calm down.” Derek’s ears are curiously red, but it _is_ pretty cold in Derek’s loft.

“I don’t know man. But I am glad I got your seal of approval, because, _damn_ , those things have been testing my patience for way too long.” Derek rolls his eyes so hard Stiles is worried for his health.

“Just watch the damn movie, Stiles.”

 

::

 

“Hey! I got your text, what’s going on?” Stiles runs straight into Isaac, who, instead of snarking like usual, just gives him a bewildered look and turns back to Derek.

Derek turns around, eyebrows in serious mode. “My text that said to lock your doors and stay at home?” Stiles shrugs that off, because, _come on_ , like they didn’t know he would come. Even the freaking Doublemint twins are there, like hell he would stay at home.

“Anyone care to fill me in?” Allison, bless her dark but lovable heart, tells him. “Fairies. A whole herd.” He freaking knew it! “They were living in old Ms. Hudson’s house and helping her with her chores.”

“Well, that actually sounds kinda nice. What’s the problem?”

“They were also feeding her fairy food and letting her give out the fairy food to others.” Fairy food was a slow-burning poison to humans. To werewolves, it was only a hallucinative. A strong one though.

“Did anybody here get any in their system?” Everybody looks at Derek. Because of course.

“We can finish up with these guys,” Scott says, tipping his chin up and looking every bit as heroic as he is. “You take Derek to Deaton’s. And try to keep him awake.”

“Aye aye, Alpha,” Stiles says with a jaunty wink before dragging the werewolf to his car.

“You know sometimes I think you guys don’t even like me and that you are only using me as transportation.” He’s joking, trying to get a banter going to keep Derek up, but instead Derek growls.

“Not true,” he grunts and Stiles widens his eyes. “We like you. I like you.”

“Well, um. Uh. Thanks. I guess.” Stiles tries to swallow the cord in his throat.

“You still should have stayed home though.” Aaaaand back to being a dickhead.

“You know what, assmonkey? No. I am _so_ tired of staying home and having to be told about your guys’ awesome adventures, having to bite my thumb and wait for you to tell me that everybody is actually alive. It sucks. So you, sir, can shut up.”

“We do it to protect you, Stiles!” Derek’s voice is taking on a certain animal-like tone and Stiles should calm him down, but, hell, _he_ isn’t even calm himself.

“Well, maybe I don’t need your protection. You don’t know what I’m capable of! You left us here with your creepy uncle and a shitload of supernatural beings without even saying goodbye. I had to fight, Derek. You weren’t here to save me, yet, _somehow_ , I still survived. So, please. Just shut up.” Stiles runs his hand through his hair, knowing that he sounded way too vulnerable there, but not caring.

The rest of the ride is silent, but Derek isn’t sleeping. Stiles knows, because he can feel his gaze on him the whole time.

 

::

 

Him and Derek stop talking for a while after that. And that wasn’t what he wanted, actually, it was the complete _opposite_ of what he wanted, but whatever. He forces Scott to cash in on his missed best friend time and he eats ice cream and he doesn’t sulk. Not even once.

Then, the baked goods stop coming. Out of nowhere. One week and a half after Derek and Stiles’ fight, he wakes up to the smell of sweat and dirt, but not chocolate. His secret admirer has decided to stop. Which really kinda sucks, considering this is the time he needs it most.

He must not be as good as hiding his teenage broodiness as he thought, because at dinner the next night, his dad sighs and sets the green beans aside.

“Son, wanna tell me why there has been a dark cloud following you for the last couple days?”

Stiles sighs, flinging himself into his hands. “It’s nothing.”

The Sherriff’s tone turns sympathetic. “Is it Derek?”

“How do _you_ know? Ugh.” He bangs his head against the table.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best support system, but I don’t know why you haven’t told me something like this. Especially after how well I handled the werewolf situation.” Stiles raises an eyebrow; his dad had made three wolves transform in front of him and then had them fight each other before he believed it.

“Okay, whatever, _besides the point_. I kinda guessed you and Derek were having some lovers’ quarrel when he stopped bringing you desserts everynight.”

Stiles’ head shoots up. “ _What_?!” He screeches. The Sherriff winces. “Lovers’ quarrel? Desserts? Bringing me desserts?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve caught him a couple times bringing you those baked goods all the time. When he stopped, I figured you guys were having a rough patch.”

“Oh, my God. I gotta go!” Stiles runs out the door, graceful as a newborn deer. The Sherriff sighs, pulling a Twinkie out from inside his jacket. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never understand teenagers.

 

::

 

“Derek Hale!” Stiles screams as soon as he enters the loft. “Derek Hale, get over here _right now_.”

Cora struts past, pulling Peter behind her and Stiles is grateful. This is going to be long and loud. (And, man, he really hopes that’s exactly what it sounds like.)

Derek finally appears, arms crossed, and eyebrows down. “What.”

“What? _What_?” Stiles rolls his eyes. “What is you’ve been secretly courting me for weeks when we’re already pretty much dating!”

Derek starts; that obviously wasn’t what he thought was going to come out. “Um.”

“Don’t you _um_ me, mister. You’ve been sneaking into my house at night and giving me the most delicious treats I’ve ever had and then _lying about them_.”

“I never lied,” Derek snaps, apparently over the surprise. “You knew this already! Just the other week you were downright _teasing_ me about it!”

“Teasing you? I never…” Actually, looking back, it does kind of sound like teasing. Huh. Oops. “I didn’t know, though. If you had just told me, instead of being so emotionally stunted, we could have been making out _forever_ ago.”

“Making out?” Derek looks like a terrified eighth-grader playing spin the bottle.

“Yes, making out! I’ve liked you since, like, ever. And you obviously like me. And, like I said we’re practically already dating. Just without the fun stuff.”

“The fun stuff?” Derek repeats.

“The fun stuff,” Stiles promises, leaning in and kissing him like his life depends on it. Because, God, it’s so surreal that he finally has this dork who makes Star Trek jokes when nobody is listening and likes sour candies and is so hot it should be illegal.

“So, uh,” Derek says when they break apart, breathing hot air in each other’s faces. “I have some chocolate syrup and whipped cream in the kitchen and-”

“Oh, God, yes,” Stiles moans, kissing him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> [ayyyyeee](http://bisexualkitsune.tumblr.com/)


End file.
